To Find Solidity and Safety
by authoressnebula
Summary: Post 3x16: Dean suddenly appears in Bobby's yard, and what was mere seconds to him turns out to be actually months. Worse yet, Sam's been missing for weeks, and a desperate race to find him in time begins. Hurt!Sam, protective!Dean, mentions of torture.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Sorry for the extended hiatus of fic; Uni got a bit crazy. Always does at the start of the year. BUT! I have fic for you. Another idea I had about a month after the finale aired, and I've finally had the time to clean it up._

* * *

Dean swore it wasn't more than a second. One minute, the hellhounds were ripping at his skin, tearing screams from his throat and desperate, begged pleas from Sam.

The next, he was in the middle of Bobby's yard, shivering and shaking.

Bobby was working on a wreck and shouted in surprise, darted away and grabbed for something beyond him. When Dean saw it was a gleaming knife, he forced his limbs to move. "Whoa, whoa," he tried, his voice gruff and torn. He cleared his throat three times before he sounded vaguely normal again. "B-Bobby, take it easy."

Bobby did stop at that, staring at him, but not releasing the knife. "The hell do you think you are?" he asked angrily, but Dean heard the tremor underneath.

"Dean Winchester. In..._serious_ amounts of pain," he gasped. His arms he'd managed to get under him gave, and he crumpled to the ground, inhaling shakily. He belatedly looked down at his body, but there was no blood, nothing torn. Just his usual gray t-shirt and jeans, the shirt soaked with perspiration.

What the hell had happened?

The cool feel of the blade against the back of his neck made him freeze. It slid, flat sided, against his skin, causing even more goosebumps to rise. In an instant Bobby had one of Dean's arms in his grasp, and he carefully dragged the blade across his forearm. Dean hissed but didn't say anything, only waiting for Bobby's response.

The knife was cast aside, silver, Dean realized a bit late. "_Dean?_" Bobby managed, staring at him now in shock.

"On the same page," Dean whispered, giving a trembling grin. "Cool." Then he passed out.

* * *

The moment he came to, Dean was sitting up, startling the hell out of Bobby. "Where's Sam?" he demanded weakly. He knew his brother, hell, he knew _Bobby_. If Sam wasn't here, Bobby would've called him at the very least, and he'd have been here by now.

But Bobby didn't answer, and Dean felt sick. "Where's Sam?" he asked again.

Bobby sighed and lifted his cap to run a hand through his hair. He looked older, more gray and a few patches of white, and Dean suddenly realized that even though it'd been a second for him between moments, it obviously hadn't been that way here. "Dean, I-"

"What day is it?" he whispered, trying to regulate his breathing.

Bobby winced but said quietly, "It's still 2008, son. You've only missed a few months."

Months. _God_. "Sam?" he pleaded.

"I don't know," Bobby said truthfully, sounding pained. "He...he took off, a month ago. I haven't been able to contact him. Tried to find him, but when your brother doesn't want to be found, well..."

"How long _was_ I gone?" Dean asked. His arms were extended to brace him on either side of the bed, and Bobby carefully wrapped his hand around one of them.

"How about we get you something to eat, drink, and I'll explain everything," he said quietly. Dean nodded and let Bobby help him to his feet, then to the kitchen, where he explained it all.

Three months. Three months to the day that Dean had, apparently died. Sam had burned him three days after, on a pyre, and then had spent the next month at Bobby's, fluctuating between anger and rage that had been vented on the cars in the yard to staggering grief that had made him sick.

Then, after the month, he'd shut down, gathered his things, and left.

"He came back a few weeks later, but not before I'd heard the stories," Bobby said, taking a swig of his coffee. Dean did the same, tasting the whiskey that was more prevalent than the coffee.

"Stories?"

"Seems Sam went on a mission to destroy anything demonic or supernatural, and he damn well did it." Bobby pursed his lips. "Vampire nests. Poltergeists. Hell, an entire town of possessed people, and he blew through them all like it was nothing. Took care of spirits and zombies, killed shifters and black dogs, left a trail wide and obvious. He wanted someone to pay attention, wanted someone to come after him."

"Lilith," Dean whispered, his stomach twisting. _Dammit_ Sammy. "Then what?"

Bobby shrugged. "He stayed a few days here, refused to listen to reason. I told him he had to stop, or he was gonna get himself killed. He said he'd only stopped by for a book, one he knew I had. It was just an old theology textbook that had a few good symbols in it, but he held onto that thing like it was the holiest of holy grails. Then he left, and I didn't hear any more stories after a week. I didn't hear anything. Tried calling him, did that locater across the entire U.S...nothing. You brother just...disappeared," he finished, closing his eyes.

Dean stared at him. "How long ago was this?" he managed.

"'Bout three weeks ago," Bobby said with a sigh. "I can't find him. I've tried _everything_, Dean, but I can't find your brother, and I'm terrified as hell he-"

He pulled himself up short. Like he needed to: Dean could fill in the blanks easy enough.

_Terrified as hell he got himself killed._

Wouldn't that be an irony? Dean managed to get himself back, and Sam managed to get himself killed.

"We gotta find him," Dean said, pushing his chair away from the table. "I don't care how, but we've gotta find him."

"I hear you son, but..." Bobby rubbed at his eyes, looking far older than he was. "I've tried everything."

"You tried Ruby?"

Bobby's head jerked up at that. "Dean, no one's seen her since the night you died. Lilith told Sam she'd cast her out or somethin'. I don't know how we'd find her, and I don't make it a habit to work with demons."

"She's easy. That's just a simple summoning spell, right?" Dean let a tiny piece of hope flare inside of him. "Ruby could find him. If he got himself mixed up into something demonic, she could find him."

Bobby bit his lip but nodded. "Worth a shot."

* * *

The summoning spell was easy, and five minutes after the candles blew out, they re-lit themselves, and the corpse of a young, blonde woman appeared in the center of the room. Dean grimaced at the rotting flesh, seconds before she inhaled and the skin healed itself.

Her eyes moved around the room in confusion before they landed on Dean. "I'll be damned all over again," she breathed, before she smirked. "Dean Winchester. You managed to get out."

"Yeah, little sketchy on the details," Dean said, and she frowned. "Why the corpse?"

"I _liked_ this body," Ruby said defensively. "Besides, now I'm not sharing it with anyone. Host went on to a better place, and I got a pretty decent body. It all works out, though seriously, don't touch me right now. I've gotta put this thing back together."

"Looks pretty back together to me."

"I'm pulling skin over patches so you won't be grossed out, okay?" she said, before she rolled her eyes. "And it's not that I don't appreciate your pulling me out of Hell which, for some reason, you don't even _remember_, but-"

"Sam's missing," Bobby cut in, and she froze, horror growing on her face.

"You're not serious."

"_Yes_ he's serious; where the hell is he?"

Ruby pushed herself up slowly, eyes on the ground in front of her. "I don't know, but it's not good. He was stirring up a lot of waves down there, with his rampage across the country. Pissed off a lot of demons, including _her_," she spat suddenly, eyes flaring black for a moment. Then they were normal again, and she was gazing at Dean. "If he's missing, it's not just a coincidence. He enraged way too many demons for that; they have to be behind this."

"You have to find him," Dean said, feeling fear curdling low in his belly. "We've tried everything; you're our last option."

"No pressure, right?" Ruby muttered, but she was finally standing, taking in slow breaths. "All right. I'll see what I can find. Sit tight, and...try not to do anything stupid again, okay?" Before Dean could even respond, she was gone, body and all.

Silence fell on the room. The only thing Dean could hear was the roaring in his ears, Sam's possible screams flowing through his mind. He had to be okay.

A hand fell on his shoulder, gentle and solid. "Let's get you your strength back," Bobby said softly. "Maybe even figure out how the hell you managed to get out of...well, Hell. Didn't happen all on its own."

Dean nodded and let Bobby pull him away from his thoughts.


	2. Chapter 2

When Ruby popped in three days later and announced that she'd found him, she wasn't smiling. In fact, she looked sick and anxious for them to move fast. Like Dean hadn't already been packed and waiting: the useless search he and Bobby had done concerning his mysterious reappearance hadn't been enough to occupy his mind.

They flew out of the yard in the Impala (the car Sam had left behind, covered with a tarp, all of Dean's things still in there and _god_ Dean needed to get to that kid) to an empty warehouse six hours away in the middle of Iowa. It was night by the time they got there, and they parked behind another building, covering the car with the dusty old tarp again. Dean gave her one thoughtful pat, a promise to clean her up and get her running smooth again, but not right now.

There was something more important he needed to save.

Getting in was sort of easy, too: there wasn't anyone outside on the first floor, and certainly no one on the third, up in the beams and rafters. They crawled through the ceiling ducts and into the main storage room, a few crates stacked here and there.

In the middle of the room, a group of people were standing, staring at something Dean couldn't make out. Something on the floor, hidden by several crates. Dean shifted restlessly, and one of the boards creaked. All three of them froze, but they weren't noticed. At least, not for now. Dean let himself breathe again.

Until a young woman stepped into the room, and all the others turned towards her. She moved with confidence and purpose, striding towards what they'd been watching. "We got our orders," she said, her voice echoing in the hollow room. "We can finally put this all to rest."

Hoots and hollers filled the room, and she stepped back, letting two large men come forward. Dean craned forward as best he could to see what they were doing, but couldn't get anything. When he heard the cry of pain, though, everything stopped. He knew that voice, knew how much pain there had to be for that sound to come out.

_Sam_.

Another second later, and Bobby inhaled sharply as they hauled a body, _Sam_, out into the open. He was being dragged, head hung low without any strength to lift it. He left a trail of dark liquid on the cement, his entire body shaking violently, blood glistening in the poor light of the warehouse, and Dean felt like hurling. A hand curled around his arm, though it felt as unsteady as Dean did. Bobby. He gripped it back and waited, even as Ruby tensed beside him.

Dean couldn't see what they were doing; something with Sam's arms. A moment later, he heard something like chains rattling, and Sam was lifted off the floor, arms spread-eagled as he was pulled up. He screamed then, the sound gurgling off at the end as he went higher and higher and higher, until he was just below the height of the rafters. The chain sound stopped, and he was left suspended, legs flailing slightly in the air.

The woman stared with a predatory smirk on her face. "The Boy King," she spat, before she laughed. "Held _above_ the world, with no one to save him. I'm sure your big brother will come rushing in...well, he would've, if he wasn't burning and screaming right now," she added, and a whimpered sob fell from Sam's lips.

"If I don't get to kill her _right now_, I swear-" Dean muttered furiously, tears in his eyes. Ruby clamped a hand over his mouth, tight and firm. Dean didn't try to shove her off; if she didn't clamp his voice down, he _was_ going to start screaming and attacking.

"We're leaving," the woman said, heading for the doors. "Lilith finally gave the order for him to die, and it had to be today. Pity; I was really hoping I got to play with the pokers today." She paused, shrugged, then continued on. "Everyone with me: leave him. Let him choke on his own air and blood."

Dean trembled with rage, gripping the metal rail in front of him hard enough to bend it. The doors shut at last, and the only sound left in the room was the labored breathing coming from Sam.

"Move," Bobby hissed, and Ruby slid underneath the metal rail, landing silently on the floor below. She reached up and helped Dean and Bobby down, before pointing in Sam's direction.

"Get to the main floor: I've got to make sure they're gone." She darted off into the shadows, and Dean wasted no more time. He sprinted down the walkway, his chest twinging at the fast motion, but it was ignored. Everything was ignored, except Sam and the path to him.

Dean finally cursed, once he reached the first floor, and jumped over the metal railing, landed on a crate, then the ground. Where had those two imbeciles been when Sam had been raised? _There_, the chains tied and pinned to the ground, and Dean darted for one. "Bobby?" he called out as quietly as he could. "The other side; the chains."

"Got 'em," Bobby said, and Dean pulled his chain free. Sam lurched slightly in the air and gave a pained moan. Another small lurch as Bobby's side was freed, and then the older hunter whispered, "Go."

Together the two eased Sam down towards the ground, until the chains were almost beyond Dean's reach. Sam was only a few feet from the ground then, but Dean didn't dare let go to get him down.

"I've got it, go," Ruby said suddenly to his left, and Dean jumped, glaring at her for a moment, before she took the chain from his hand. Dean hurried over to his brother, trying to gaze up into his face. Eyes tightly closed were all he could see, besides the stream of tears down his face. He looked gaunt, pale, sick almost. Miserable. Grieving.

When his eyes opened at Dean's touch at his wrist, the grief and misery increased. Dean frowned, completely baffled. "Sammy?"

"Please don't," Sam begged, voice breaking, and Dean couldn't have been more confused if he'd wanted to. "D-Don't...don't be him. Be anyone else, just...just don't be _him_."

Confusion gave way to realization, and Dean's stomach twisted impossibly further. "Sammy, it's me. I don't know how, but it's me, I swear dude." One wrist free, and Sam tried to muffle his pained whimper. "Not a shifter. It's me."

Sam's eyes closed tightly, but not tight enough to keep the tears from trailing. He turned his face away, letting his unruly, far too long hair hang in his face. "I...I can't..." he whispered on a sob.

His other wrist was freed, and Dean caught him before he could free fall past Dean's embrace. A choked sob that sounded too much like a scream was pulled from Sam, muscles locking even after the short amount of time he'd hung there.

And Dean had no idea what the hell they'd done to him before they'd shown up. Three weeks missing. _Pokers._

He felt sick. He _wanted_ to be sick, wanted this nightmare and thoughts to be purged from his system with it, but it wasn't going to happen. He needed to be here for Sam.

When Sam flinched from his touch, keened in grief as he tried to talk to him, and silently sobbed when they carried him out and into the Impala, Dean wondered for the first time if he wasn't really dead still, and that this was Hell, after all.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean had never been more thankful that Sam was unconscious as they'd made their way back to Bobby's. The kid had been out for the count after ten minutes in the Impala, ten long minutes of flinching and silently crying while trying not to lay on the seat.

The wounds hadn't been too bad from first glance, but once they'd gotten him inside, Dean had seen the extent. Burns, cuts, bruises, and possibly a broken wrist. No wonder the kid had screamed when they'd hoisted him. Dean had fought his traitorous hand to keep from trembling when it had skimmed lightly over Sam's tortured flesh.

They'd set his wrist, taped up cracked ribs as best they could, and then they'd waited. Based on their brief hello after three months, Dean was expecting Sam due another round of disbelief, tears, and pulling away from him. He considered letting Bobby sit and wait for Sam, but couldn't tear himself away from his brother. Three long months for the both of them, though Dean _still_ couldn't remember anything of Hell. Sam, though...Sam had lived through his own personal Hell without Dean, was still living it because he thought Dean wasn't really back. Dean found himself preparing for Sam's accusations, maybe even an attack or worse, a plea to leave.

So Sam waking up was actually fairly anticlimactic. There was no shudder, no scream, no flinching away from the sight of Dean perched in a chair beside the bed.

Sam only opened his eyes and stared. Dean swallowed and stared back. "Hey," Sam said.

Okay, maybe it'd sunk in that this was Dean. "Hey," Dean returned easily, leaning forward with a small grin. "We gotta go over that whole 'don't taunt demons' thing?"

Sam gave a smile, a _smile_, and Dean felt something tight inside of him let go. "I had a plan," Sam answered. He stayed motionless on the bed, his eyes locked on Dean.

"Yeah, not such a swift one." Dean swallowed and closed his eyes for a moment. When his brother, bound in chains and suspended, filled his mind, he reopened them. "You got pretty hurt, Sammy. Like we weren't sure we could patch you up again."

Sam's smile slid into something sad and wistful. "It was worth the shot."

"What shot?"

"To get you out," Sam said softly, and Dean froze. "If Lilith put you in Hell, it stood to reason she'd be the one who could pull you out, right? She told me that night that I didn't have anything to bargain with. I figured if I trapped her, I'd have her life."

"You should've called Bobby," Dean scolded, his voice trembling. "Sam, you could've gotten _killed_-"

"Yeah, well, realized that now," Sam said, his smile falling briefly. "And...it didn't work anyways."

Dean frowned, blinked a moment, then asked haltingly, "It didn't?"

Sam shook his head briefly. "Obviously not."

Whatever had loosened slowly began to wind up again inside of Dean. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, aiming for breezy and hoping he wouldn't fall on his face. "I'm right here."

There was that stupid smile again, sad and wistful and resigned. "I know, but I'm bound to wake up eventually." Dean's lips parted in surprise, even as Sam continued. "God but I miss you, Dean. I miss you so much I don't think I can breathe sometimes."

Dean found he was having his own problems breathing. So much for Sam believing he was really there. "Sammy, it's me," he said after he swallowed hard, leaning forward. "Dude, I'm right here, I swear."

Sam's smile fell slightly. "Dean, you don't have to...or, well, I guess _I_ don't have to say-"

"Sammy, no, it's _me_," Dean insisted, and reached out to take Sam's hand in his. "I swear to you, it's-"

As soon as his hand touched Sam's, everything changed. The soft smile on his brother's face slid straight into fear, _terror_, and grief. Sam himself jerked and pulled away, wincing as the movements pulled on wounds. "Sammy," Dean started, standing to reach for him again.

"_Don't_," Sam choked out, trembling. His wide eyes filled with tears, and he shook his head rapidly. "Don't call me that. You're...you're not _him_, you d-don't get to call me-"

"Dean?" Bobby called, and Sam's eyes widened impossibly further, turning to the door just as Bobby appeared. "What's going...Sam? You all right?"

Sam began shaking his head again, his eyes cutting from Dean to Bobby and back again. "No," he whispered. He tried to force his lower lip out and still it, then brought it back in and bit it hard enough for Dean to worry about blood. "No, no, nono_no_, oh _god_-"

Dean was hearing the same words running through his head. He tried to reach out again, wanting to at least reassure Sam and himself, but Sam only whimpered and slid to the edge of the bed. Dean stepped back at that, his heart clenched tight in his chest. "Sam, _Sam, _just listen to me, okay? It's me, it's Bobby, just-"

One of these days, Dean was going to get to finish a sentence without an interruption. At that point, though, there was a loud explosion from the living room. Bobby disappeared, his footsteps loud and fast down the hall, and even as Dean made it to the doorway, he heard the older hunter yell a curse. "Bobby?"

"Not your concern, sweetheart," a voice crooned to his right. He wasn't even able to turn his head to see before he was thrown back into the small bedroom, hitting the wall hard and sliding down to the floor. _Ow_. Okay, on a list of things he hadn't missed...

He blinked to clear his vision, and he could see the woman from the warehouse. Her eyes were locked on Sam, a dangerous gleam in her eyes. "You're quite the pain in the ass, Sam Winchester," she said with a smile, but the hard edge in her tone spoke volumes. Two men appeared behind her, their eyes pitch black. Shit.

When they stepped into the room towards Sam, who tried to shift back on the bed and away from them, Dean pushed himself up. "You take another step towards him, and I swear to god you'll choke on your own demonic smoke tail," he growled.

The woman turned her head towards Dean, her gaze narrowing. "Dean Winchester. _Another_ pain in the ass we thought we'd gotten rid of. How'd you manage to get out of Hell?"

"Honestly? I don't know," Dean replied. He straightened and kept his back to the wall. "And I don't really care. But you touch him, and you'll regret it."

Her eyes flashed black for a moment, and Dean surged forward, already knowing what was going to happen and praying she'd do the expected. Her lips twitched upwards, and he found himself flying across the room to the other side. His head hit the small dresser on the other side of the bed, and he grimaced but kept still. He was turned away from them: he needed them to think he was out.

"Shouldn't have gotten big brother involved again, Sammy," the woman chided, and the sounds of her shoes moved closer to Dean. A sudden whimper of pain from Sam, and Dean gritted his teeth but kept silent. "Now you just get to watch him die. Again."

Slowly Dean moved his hand towards the dresser door, hoping Bobby hadn't changed all that much in three months' time. There was salt and holy water in every single room of the house, and in this particular room, it was stashed away in the dresser. His fingers reached the door and carefully pulled it away slightly to let his hand inside.

A choked cry from Sam, and Dean froze at the sound. "Lilith gave explicit orders to kill you," the woman continued, her voice harder now. "I was enjoying my time with you, I have to admit that. And you had it coming, for every one of us you sent back to Hell or killed in order to pay Lilith back for your brother." The sound of skin being hit made Dean flinch even before he heard the sob. "Well, guess what? Lilith paid attention, and you finally got yours. And now, she's given the orders, and I'm supposed to obey. You living past tonight isn't an option."

His fingers brushed across cool, smooth glass, and he almost gave his thanks out loud. He shifted it around until it was firmly in his grasp, then pulled it towards the door. Once it was within sight, he kept his grip on the top part of the bottle and twisted the cap off with his fingers. The angle was awkward, the silence was difficult, but he finally had holy water available, at his literal fingertips.

High time he put it to use.

The next cry from Sam was halfway between a sob and a scream, and Dean pulled the bottle out and heaved its contents towards the end of the bed. The two men were in front of the woman, their hands wrapped around Sam's ankles and wrists as they viciously pulled, but they flew back when they were hit. Dean surged upward and tossed the contents again, this time hitting the woman in the face. She shrieked and stumbled backwards, out into the hallway with the men.

Like clockwork the three suddenly lit up like fireworks from the inside, shuddering and shaking as they died. The bodies fell away to reveal a satisfied looking Ruby. Her knife was bloody in her hand, and she twirled it once for show. "No one's going back to Lilith this time," she said, giving Dean a hard look. "And after what they'd done, I don't think the people inside would've wanted to live anyways. If they were even still alive."

Poor excuses, but Dean recognized what she was doing. _Forget about this and get back to Sam._ Demonic gift basket for her, seriously. Either that, or he'd give her less of a hard time.

...It was gonna have to be the gift basket.

He tossed the bottle away and turned back to Sam. They'd managed to drag him from the back of the bed to the foot of it, where he still remained, sitting awkwardly. He cradled his wrists, his feet were pulled back and away from him, and his eyes were locked on Dean. On his chest and face were two new vivid bruises that made Dean itch to go get ice.

First things first, though. Dean sighed and stepped over towards the bed, keeping his hands up where Sam could very obviously see them. "Are you okay? Did they hurt your wrist?" _Worse_, he wanted to add, but Sam already looked pretty spooked. From where he stood, Dean could see bruises forming across the already swollen flesh, and winced in sympathy. "I can get Bobby-" if Bobby was even all right, "-and he can make sure, if he's not going to freak you-"

"Dean?" Sam cut in, and Dean would've minded about being interrupted any other time except now. Now, when Sam was staring at him, at _him_, not through him, leaning forward, not away, hope on his face, not fear. Dean stopped breathing for a moment and stared back.

The last thing he wanted, _needed_, was for Sam to shy away again, but he still moved one step closer to the bed. Sam didn't flinch, which was more than all right with Dean, and if there was a chance at all that Sam honestly thought it was him, and not some shapeshifter or whatever else his brain had conjured up, then Dean would just move slowly and be there for-

"D-Dean?" Sam whispered, and Dean moved forward instantly towards his brother. He was sitting and reaching a moment later, and when Sam reached as well, his fingers just barely pressing against Dean's shirt, Dean finally breathed in.

"I got you, Sammy," he said softly. His arms weren't tight, but he wasn't letting Sam go, not anytime soon. He laid his chin carefully on the top of Sam's head and repeated, "I got you."

Sam's fingers tightened suddenly in his shirt, and the dam was broken. "I thought that...y-you're _here_...I...I thought...oh _god_, D-Dean-"

The hitched breath gave way to a full out sob, one Sam desperately tried to choke back. "Not going anywhere, Sammy," Dean said firmly, holding on even tighter. Sam's body shook in his arms, the sobs breaking through and soaking Dean's shirt. "Shhh, shhh," he whispered, as softly as he dared. His right hand came up to cradle Sam's head, pulling him in to rest fully in the crook of Dean's neck. Gently he began to rock them back and forth, and he felt all of eight years old again, holding his inconsolable brother after a bad nightmare.

The nightmare was finally over.

Sam continued to cry and cling, and Dean continued to cradle and soothe. His own eyes began to sting, and Dean closed them, let the tears trail down his face.

It was _over_.


	4. Chapter 4 End

_A/N: You guys know me too well: for all those who said, "It's not over!"...you were right. Hope you guys enjoy the real ending!_

* * *

The bodies were burned in a field behind Bobby's place, away from prying eyes. Dean let Ruby and Bobby handle it. He had Sam to handle, with kid gloves on top of it, and that was all he wanted to do. All he needed to do.

"Just walk slow, dude. We're not doin' a race here."

"We'd be behind the turtle at the starting line," Sam panted, leaning heavily against Dean. The demons had wrenched his wrist up again, to the point where Dean had been afraid they'd need surgery to correct it. Ruby had taken one look at it, left, and returned an hour later with healing herbs. The swelling was coming down, and it actually looked like a wrist again.

Now it was just the low grade fever, the coughing that sounded like there were nails ripping tissue in Sam's lungs, and his ankle, which one of the demons had twisted. Sam refused to stay in bed when Dean left the room, though, and had tried to get up to follow the first time Dean had left for a minute. The resulting fall had had Dean hurrying back to help, but it had been the whimper of pain that had made his chest tighten.

That was always going to happen. It was Sam, and Sam in pain was always going to break him.

And the thought of Sam in pain for months while he was _somewhere_ made his eyes burn and his heart ache.

Another hop into the room, and Sam flinched. Tiny, minute, and Dean knew Sam wouldn't say anything. "That's it Sparky, time to sit," he declared, turning them towards the kitchen. With his foot he was able to reach out and tug a chair close, then sat Sam down as gently as he dared.

Sam hissed as he went down, but it was a hiss of relief more than it was of pain. "I'll get an ice pack, we'll prop up the ankle," Dean promised, and turned for the refrigerator.

"No, wait, Dean," Sam called, sounding almost desperate. Three days since Sam had sobbed and choked in his arms, and he still sounded so unsure, so afraid. Like Dean was going to disappear any minute.

Dean turned back and took hold of Sam's outreached hand. "Not gonna disappear, promise. Let me get the ice?"

Sam closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, then hesitantly pulled his hand away. "Sorry," he mumbled. "I don't mean to be a clingy chick-flick moment that won't stop."

Dean waited a moment more, then turned for the fridge. Bobby had good ice packs, the types the medical centers used, and he pulled one out and began bending it to mold it. "The one thing you could do is stop _apologizing_ for it, Sam. Trust me, I get it," he added, stepping back over to Sam. Sam's eyes were open again, locked on Dean as he crouched next to Sam. A nearby chair was pulled over, and Dean carefully lifted Sam's ankle onto the seat. The ice pack was wrapped around the swollen appendage, and he surveyed his handiwork for a moment before standing again. "Too cold?"

"No, it feels good," Sam said softly. "And I know it doesn't bug you, for some reason, but-"

"Three months, Sam," Dean said, and Sam grimaced. "Give yourself some time here."

Three months without Dean, then on top of that, three weeks of demonic torture. Sam still wouldn't say what had happened, but Dean was getting the highlights from the nightmares every night. Part of him wanted to hear it laid out, so he could help Sam over the experience and move on.

A bigger part of him was guiltily happy he didn't know, because if the nightmares were any indication, it was bad, even by their standards. Bad enough that Dean had already woken up from a nightmare of his own just from the tiny snippets he'd been privy to.

No sign of Lilith had come through yet. No other demons had stepped forward to try and take Sam, though Bobby and Dean were more than ready for them. Ruby was keeping her ear to the demonic ground, though, and said it'd be awhile before they hit again. When they did, it'd be bad, and Lilith would probably lead the way.

Dean snagged the last chair from around the table and pulled it over next to Sam. Sam glanced at him in almost guilty relief as he sat down, but didn't turn away when Dean met his gaze. "Seriously, Sammy: you went through Hell, which was _not_ how this was supposed to go," Dean said quietly. "It was supposed to be me enduring Hell, not you."

"If what happened to me meant you not having to endure Hell, then it was worth it," Sam said, and Dean gritted his teeth at the response he knew would come. "I mean it, Dean."

"It wasn't worth it to me," Dean replied vehemently. "God Sam, seeing you like that, _hearing_ you...that was my Hell, right there. My worst nightmare realized." His little brother, bound and broken, wasn't an image that was going to fade away anytime soon.

"But you found me," Sam said, and there was a small smile on his face. "You got me out."

"Damn straight I did," Dean replied firmly, and Sam's smile broadened. There was a small bruise on his cheek, a discolored green and blue, and it seemed to fade with the sign of happiness.

Sam glanced down at his ankle and shifted in his seat, wincing slightly as he did so. "Ruby hear anything about Lilith?"

Dean sighed and shook his head. "No; nothing yet. She's just vanished off the grid." And for the moment, that was the best thing in the entire world, apart from Sam getting better.

Because Dean knew that the events from nearly a week ago hadn't been a coincidence. He'd suddenly reappeared in the world, alive and well, and then three days later, Lilith had suddenly decided that Sam had to die, after three weeks of torturing him? Dean didn't believe in coincidences on a good day, and that one was just too purposeful to ignore. She'd known that the person best equipped to find and save Sam had suddenly escaped from Hell and would track his brother down.

Sam had said it was a miracle, that something powerful had to have been behind it. Something powerful and good. Dean hadn't tried to dissuade his brother's thoughts, but come on, it wasn't possible. That an angel had swept into Hell and plucked him out?

...Okay, so considering Lilith's plan and the timing of everything, it wasn't that off a thought. Dean just wasn't ready to buy into it, if at all. Maybe later, when he had some proof, like a new birthmark or a feather tucked in his things. Or, you know, when he saw one for himself.

Sam exhaled deeply, then coughed loud and harsh. Dean instantly began to rise to make a cup of tea, but Sam caught his shirt and tugged him back down to his seat. "I'm fine," he promised, his voice raspy. "Just tired."

"Then why'd you want to come out here?" Dean asked, raising his eyebrow. "Bed's a hell of a lot comfier than these rickety chairs."

"Because you were going stir-crazy in there, and I tend to go stir-crazy without you around," Sam murmured. His eyes closed for longer periods, before he blinked several times in a quick succession.

Dean rolled his eyes but scooted his chair right up against Sam's. It was easy to tug gently at Sam's sleeve and pull him down against Dean's shoulder. Sam mumbled something and shifted, letting his head rest near the crook of Dean's neck.

After a moment of silence, Dean let his own eyes close. Sam wasn't the only one who hadn't gotten a lot of rest in the past few days, and Dean had refused to let his own close until Sam closed his. It wasn't logical, but nothing about the past few days, months, _year_ was logical. It was just what his heart knew, what he felt as the older brother.

"I'm glad you're here. Back. With me."

Sam's barely spoken whisper held more emotions than Dean could've ever hoped to figure out. He leaned his head lightly against Sam's, felt the sting of tears for no real reason. There was an army of demons out to collect their heads, with a leader who had a personal grudge against Sam. They had a mystery concerning Dean's sudden reappearance and any complications that could arise from _that. _Sam was hurt, Ruby probably still had plans concerning Sam's powers, and Dean was worried about both issues.

But they were here, they were both alive, they were together. They were brothers reunited, and god but it felt _good_.

"So am I, Sammy."

END


End file.
